


happiness can be found even in the darkest of times

by MagicaLyss



Series: A Sky Full of Stars {Irondad Febuwhump} [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Harry Potter References, Heart Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: Febuwhump Day 13 & 14 – Unfortunate & Broken Heart“I’m sorry,” Peter cries, tugging loosely at his curls. “It’s my fault. If I had- If I had just-”Happy’s shaking his head, hands tightening on Peter’s shoulders. “Not your fault, kid. Tony’s heart has been weak for over a decade now. Heart attacks happen sometimes. There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this.”But if Peter had followed his gut and stayed away from Tony, away from the Starks, maybe they would’ve been okay. Peter, he’s infectious. The Parker Luck attacks anyone close to him.That’s why Mary and Richard were dead. That’s why Ben and May died. That’s why Tony’s now in the hospital.Because of Peter.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: A Sky Full of Stars {Irondad Febuwhump} [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619647
Comments: 8
Kudos: 287





	happiness can be found even in the darkest of times

**Author's Note:**

> It's been like 17 years so idk if I have to say it but Spoilers for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix??

For once, the day didn’t seem to hold any heaviness to it. The sky was bright, the cake made to immaculate perfection, the card and present nervously left in the center of the table.  
  


“Happy Becoming a Stark Day, kid,” Tony says, uncertainty obvious in the way he holds himself, shoulders tense and eyes wary.  
  


Three years ago, Peter would’ve hid away in his room at the reminder, scolding himself for calling it _his_ room. He would’ve tucked himself under his blankets, locked the door, and cried, begging May and Ben to come back.  
  


Two years ago, Peter would’ve shrugged Tony off. He would’ve rolled his eyes, refused to have any of the cake, and ignored the gift. He would’ve shouldered his backpack and stalked to school, not even accepting Happy’s offer for a ride.  
  


Even last year, Peter would’ve squared his jaw, maybe attempted a half-smile in consideration. He wouldn’t have eaten the cake, would’ve maybe peeked at the gift when he thought Tony wasn’t looking, but would’ve ignored the idea of the day that stood before him.  
  


But today’s different. Three years is a long time to heal.  
  


So, instead, he offers Tony a smile, maybe a little weary and down, but a smile nonetheless, and he sits at the table across from his guardian.  
  


“Hey, bud,” Tony murmurs, even quieter than before, but his shoulders have relaxed. “I know I’m not supposed to let you have cake for breakfast, but I figured we could go out tonight, if you want.”  
  


Peter pauses, and even quieter than Tony, even smaller, he says, “Could we maybe just have a movie night? Just us here? If not, that’s okay, I don’t mind going out, but I just- I-”  
  


But Tony’s face is so gentle, eyes shining. “Yeah, buddy, of course. We can watch that show you never shut up about.”  
  


Tentatively, Peter steels himself to extend the olive branch he’d been holding close to his chest for far too long. “Do you think, maybe, we could try to make meatloaf? It was- It was the only thing May could cook and I found her recipe when I was going through her things.”  
  


And Tony’s eyes light up with pride, smiling softly. “Course we can, buddy.”  
  


“Can I?” Peter asks, reaching for the present. Anxiety still thrums in his veins and the remnants of grief still curl from his toes up to the pit of his stomach, and guilt still lingers in the back of his mind. But he wants to try.  
  


Tony pushes the present and card across to Peter, still smiling so carefully like he’s scared any wrong move on his part will set Peter backwards on his course to happiness.  
  


The card is simple, a few kind words scrawled in Tony’s messy handwriting about how much Peter means to him.  
  


The gift makes tears spring to Peter’s eyes. A gold chain with a locket on the end of it. When he opens it, it’s the picture of Peter, Ben, and May on the beach when they went on one of their Spontaneous Sunday Stunts. They drove out to Coney Island that Sunday, not long before Everything Happened.  
  


Peter quickly slips the gold chain around his neck, unable to tear his eyes away from the picture of Ben and May smiling at the camera, arms wrapped around Peter.  
  


He stands suddenly, chair kicking out behind him before he can stop it, but Tony beats him to talking, voice low and apologetic.  
  


“I’m sorry, I know it’s soon and it’s not my place, I just saw the picture when I was going through some of the stuff, and I figured-”  
  


“Thank you,” Peter murmurs, swallowing thickly. Tears catch on his cheeks and his hands are shaking where they clutch the golden pendant, but he needed this. It’s been three years.  
  


Peter moves around the table and allows himself to hug Tony, a few years ago, he would’ve never allowed himself to, he would’ve told himself it was betraying May and Ben to be accepting Tony’s comforts.  
  


“Yeah, course, kiddo,” Tony says, pressing the quickest kiss to Peter’s temple.  
  


He clears his throat, offering a proud smile. “Finish up your piece of cake and then I’ve gotta get you to school.”  
  


Peter lets himself laugh, a small fraction of the person he once was, before everything happened, but it’s enough for now at least.  
  


Three years ago, Peter watched Ben die in the grim alleyway ( _bloody hands, pained wheezes, the murmured With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility, the guilt and the grief, watching May fall to her knees when the police officers dragged Peter, shocked and blood-caked hands, into the house with The News)_ and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. And then, as though the universe wasn’t done ruining his life, when Peter went to see May the next morning, she was gone too.  
  


Broken Heart Syndrome, the doctors told him. A rare occurrence, but somehow Parker Luck had struck again.  
  


And suddenly, within the course of twenty-four hours, Peter was alone. Absolutely, irreversibly, indescribably alone.  
  


Running away from the CPS wasn’t as hard as he thought, running from grief was harder than he’d thought.  
  


He spent his days swinging through the streets of Queens as Spider-Man, he’d take naps on rooftops, hoping nobody would catch him.  
  


Until, of course, Iron Man showed up one day and took him back to the tower, offering up one of his hundreds of guest bedrooms.  
  


It wasn’t like Peter couldn’t accept it, he didn’t have much of a choice unless he wanted to sleep in his stupid Spider-Man onesie on various rooftops for the rest of his life, running from CPS.  
  


And three years later, somehow, Tony’s still here. He hasn’t given up on Peter yet, he hasn’t _died_ like Peter thinks he might if he starts to think of Tony as a real parental figure.  
  


But Peter’s been letting his guard down. He’s been accepting the homework help, he’s been letting Tony take him out to restaurants and for ice cream, Tony’s been coming to his Academic Decathlon competitions, they have movie nights at least once a week.  
  


Peter’s let himself get close to Tony in a way he promised he wouldn’t because he knows that whenever he gets close to somebody, they die. It’s happened four times already, and he swore he wouldn’t let it happen to Tony.  
  


But he lets his guard down, and the bad things happen like he knew they would.  
  


  
*  
  
  
Ned’s rambling about his new girlfriend, hands moving wildly with his emotions. Something about how he thinks she may have cheated on him already because of some snapchats MJ swears she saw during Academic Decathlon the other day.  
  


It’s obviously important to Ned, and normally Peter would care a lot about it, but something seems off. Wrong. His spidey-sense is ringing in the back of his head.

And then they leave the school, Ned rolling his eyes dramatically as he gets to the part of his story where he’s planning on asking Betty about it, and Happy’s the one waiting for him not Tony.  
  


Normally, Peter wouldn’t have been worried. Happy picks him up all the time.  
  


But it’s their third anniversary of being a family and Tony said he’d pick Peter up from school so they could grab some ice cream, maybe some fast food, hang out for a bit.  
  


He wouldn’t just _miss it_.  
  


“Happy?” Peter calls out, wincing when Ned abruptly stops talking. “Sorry, man. I’ll call you later and you can tell me everything about what happens tonight.”  
  


Ned’s shoulders don’t slump in the way Peter thought they would, there’s no disappointment or anger or any ill feelings in his eyes. He just grins and claps Peter on the shoulder.  
  


“No worries. I gotta get going anyways. Guess we’ll cross our fingers that Betty has a reasonable explanation for those snaps,” Ned says. “Bye!”  
  


Peter murmurs a half-hearted goodbye with a distracted smile, before turning on Happy, trying his best to push down the worry and disappointment.  
  


“Hey, kid,” Happy says. His sunglasses slip down a little to reveal red-rimmed eyes, making Peter flinch.  
  


“What’s going on? What happened?”  
  


Happy sighs, opening the door for Peter to get in but the teenager doesn’t move. “Listen, kid, it’d be easier to explain when we get back home-”  
  


“Is he okay?” Peter demands, tears already threatening to spill. Of course this happened. Of course something bad had to happen on the three years since Peter became a Stark. It was bound to happen one day, Parker Luck always ready to attack when Peter least expects it.  
  


“He had a heart attack, Pete,” Happy says, voice soft and careful. “It happens sometimes, ever since Afghanistan his heart’s been weak.”  
  


Peter’s knees buckle and Happy barely manages to catch him, gently maneuvering Peter into the car.  
  


“He’s okay,” Happy reassures, easily blocking the car from the view of the prying teenagers passing. “He’s going to be just fine. He’s going to spend a couple days, maybe a week, in Medical, and then he’ll be fine.”  
  


Peter lets out a broken sob, tears spilling over the edges. His shaking hands comes up to cover his face, hunching over himself in passenger seat.  
  


“Pete, kiddo, he’s going to be okay, I promise,” Happy soothes, hands rubbing at Peter’s shoulders.  
  


“I’m sorry,” Peter cries, tugging loosely at his curls. “It’s my fault. If I had- If I had just-”  
  


Happy’s shaking his head, hands tightening on Peter’s shoulders. “Not your fault, kid. Tony’s heart been weak for over a decade now. It just happens sometimes. There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this.”  
  


But if Peter had followed his gut and stayed away from Tony, away from the Starks, maybe they would’ve been okay. Peter, he’s _infectious_. The Parker Luck attacks anyone close to him.  
  


That’s why Mary and Richard were dead. That’s why Ben and May died. That’s why Tony’s now in the hospital.  
  


Because of Peter.  
  


“C’mon, kiddo, let’s get you home.”  
  


Happy doesn’t say much more as his hands disappear from Peter’s shoulder and he gets into the driver’s seat, starting back towards the tower. He murmurs a few more quiet reassurances, before he gives up and lets Peter curl up and cry. All he does is reach out a hand is pat Peter’s shoulder gently every once in a while.  
  


Peter just cries and wishes the bullet had taken him instead of Ben that night over three years ago. Things would’ve been different.  
  


  
*  
  


Ned calls him when they get back to the tower and Peter answers it without really thinking, sinking down onto the couch as Happy disappears down to medical without him.  
  


“I walked Betty home from school,” Ned starts without waiting for Peter to say anything. It’s not like he knows anything’s wrong, he doesn’t know Peter’s life is crumbling before his very eyes. “And I confronted her about the whole ordeal.”  
  


Peter hums, worried if he tried to speak, his voice would crack and give it all away.  
  


“Betty admitted she was planning on going to Brad’s this weekend,” Ned exclaims. “MJ was right, she was going to cheat on me. Can you believe it? I ended it right then and there, told her if she liked Brad so much, she should be with him and not me.”  
  


“Yeah?”  
  


“Yeah… I know I was the one to break up with her, but man, does it ever hurt? I think my heart is broken, dude. Like can you believe it? _Brad_ , of all people?”  
  


Ned continues rambling about his relationship problems, but Peter stops listening, mind looping the same phrase. _Heart is broken.  
  
_

_Broken heart.  
  
_

Ned and Betty were together for like three weeks, maybe. Ben and May were married for ten years, happy and in love, and prepared to spend the rest of their lives together.  
  


Ned’s relationship problems may feel like the end of the world to him, but it isn’t a broken heart.  
  


“I gotta go, Ned, sorry, man,” Peter blurts, cutting Ned off again. “I, uh, Tony’s, he, fuck, Ned, Tony had a heart attack and I-”  
  


“Shit, Peter, I had no idea, I- I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can, just let me know, yeah? I- I don’t know what to say. I’m just-”  
  


Peter shakes his head, willing the tears not to fall. “It’s cool. I’ll call you back later. I gotta go bye.”  
  


He hangs up, gives himself exactly two minutes to panic, to absolutely fall apart at the seams like he remembers doing when he walked into May’s room the day after Ben died and found her already long gone. He gave himself two minutes to panic before he called the police, packed up his things, changed into his Spider-Man suit, and swung into Queens.  
  


This time, Peter doesn’t run away, he doesn’t try to hide. He pulls himself together as much as he can, and steels himself to go down to Medical.  
  


  
*  
  
  
  
When Peter’s parents died, Ben and May would take turns reading Peter to sleep out of the Harry Potter Series, a collector’s edition Mary bought just a few weeks before the fateful plane ride.  
  


She had left them with Peter at May and Ben’s before they’d left, saying it would be good entertainment while they were away.  
  


Turns out, they’d be one of the only things Peter could keep that belonged to them.  
  


The Harry Potter books were tucked away in the back of his closet not long later, when looking at them was enough to bring back waves and waves of grief.  
  


After Ben and May died, Tony found them when taking everything from the apartment to the tower.  
  


Peter was practically catatonic, refusing to leave his bed or eat the food Tony brought. And his new guardian did the only thing he knew how to do.  
  


He read the Harry Potter books out loud, night after night after night until they’d made it to the part where Sirius died, and Peter had jerked out of bed and taken the book from Tony’s hands, drawing it to his chest as he cried.  
  


It’s not like he didn’t know it would happen, he’d read the books six or seven times each, but hearing Tony’s rough voice depict Harry’s closest parental figure’s death so soon after Ben and May…  
  


Now, years later, Peter tugs the box of books out from his closet where he’d hidden them a while back.  
  


He takes them down to medical where Tony is, needles and IV’s and machinery surrounding him. His heart monitor is steadier than Peter thought it would be, but it doesn’t do much to quell his anxiety.  
  


The spine crackles when he props open the first book of the series, tucking the rest of the box under his chair and he starts reading.  
  


“ _Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much_ …”  
  


  
*  
  
  
Pepper came down every once in a while, trying to convince Peter up from Tony’s bedside. She brought a few snacks, but when they went uneaten, she settled for bringing a few bottles of ice water when Peter’s voice became rough and cracking through the overuse.  
  


Happy was in and out for the first night but he didn’t bother as much after that. They both knew Tony would be back on his feet in no time, there was no reason to cry at his bedside when he’d be just fine.  
  


Bruce and Helen showed up occasionally, they tried to speak to him, tried to take the books from him, tried to get him to rest or eat or drink some water at the very least, but he never complied and used his sticky fingers and strength to his advantage.  
  


The two constants, though, was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and Peter’s voice, reading and reading and reading.  
  


After two nights of Tony resting, which apparently was perfectly normal according to Helen and Bruce, Peter’s voice finally cracked, tears overcoming him as he tries to continue to force himself through the blurring words of the page.  
  


“ _‘There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... He's gone.’_ ” Peter chokes out, voice trembling and hands shaking.  
  


A sob escapes his throat and he can’t get his voice to keep going, book falling into his lap. Even three years later, he can’t make it through Sirius’s death. He can’t do it.  
  


He tucks his knees up to his chest, hunching in on himself in the uncomfortable plastic chair at Tony’s bedside, tears refusing to cease, pouring down his cheeks like waterfalls. Sobs wrack his chest, shoulders shuddering, book clutched to his chest.  
  


He cries and he cries and he cries.  
  


And then,  
  


“Pete?”  
  


He turns quickly, nearly falling from his chair in his haste to see if the voice was real and not a figment of his imagination.  
  


But it’s real. Tony’s eyes are finally open, boring into him with an intense worry and concern, hands already reaching for him, seeking to comfort the crying teenager.  
  


Peter flinches, shying away from the outstretched hands. The book slips from his grasp and hits the floor with a thud, and he scrambles to grab it, hands trembling violently.  
  


“Kiddo, hey, it’s okay, we’re okay,” Tony’s reassuring, voice rough from disuse, but so soft and caring it makes Peter want to fall into his arms and let him will the horrors of the world away.  
  


But he can’t. He can’t pretend it’s okay.  
  


“I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry,” he cries, knees buckling. He doesn’t have Happy to catch him this time, instead hitting the floor with a whine and hunching in on himself on the floor as he gasps for breath.  
  


“Hey, hey, hey, kiddo, we’re okay. It’s alright. I know it’s scary, but it’s okay. I’m just fine, alright? But I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”  
  


His eyes slide over the books, in particular the book that Peter’s pulled into his lap again, and his expression softens.  
  


“Buddy, you know we skip over that book, don’t you?” Tony murmurs. He carelessly tugs off the circles on his chest, monitoring his heart rate, and the IV out of his hand, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.  
  


“No, no- You shouldn’t-” Peter tries to say, but then Tony’s kneeling on the tiled floor beside him and pulling him into a tight hug, effectively cutting off his protests.  
  


Tony’s voice is soft and warm as they rock gently on the floor, reassuring him that everything alright.  
  


And it works in a way that Tony’s perfected over the past three years of learning how to soothe Peter through guilt and grief and panic.  
  


“You wanna tell me what’s up, bud? You wanna talk to me?”  
  


Peter pulls away from Tony’s arms, knowing he must look like a wreck with tousled greasy curls and red-rimmed puffy eyes and a trembling mouth.  
  


“I kill everyone I get close to,” Peter says, face crumpling. “Everyone I get close to _dies_ , Tony, and I- I can’t lose you too. I can’t do it again, I can’t. My Parker Luck, it- it- Please, I- I have to leave, you have to send me away or else- or else-”  
  


But Tony isn’t angry like Peter thought he would be. His voice stays in the same soft tone he’s adopted. “It’s not your fault, buddy. I know you think it is, I know it’s been tough for you, but it isn’t because of you. My heart’s been weak since Afghanistan, kid, long before you.”  
  


“But- But Ben, and May, they- If I had just-”  
  


“Kiddo, baby, you weren’t the one to pull the trigger. You weren’t the one to crash your parents’ plane. You weren’t the one to give me a heart attack. This isn’t on you, bambi. Bad things happen to good people.”  
  


“But-”  
  


Tony shakes his head, pulling Peter more firmly against his chest. “No buts. None of it was your fault no matter how much that little voice in your head is saying it is. It wasn’t your fault, I promise.”  
  


Peter gives up fighting, he sinks into the hug, hiding his face away in Tony’s shirt, shaking hands curling into the hem of his shirt.  
  


“I can’t lose you,” he says. “I can’t do it again, Tony, I can’t.”  
  


“And I’ll try my hardest to make sure you won’t have to, okay? But you know I can’t promise you something like that.”  
  


“I know, I just… I just can’t do it again. I can’t lose a fifth parent, Tony. I can’t do it. I don’t think- I don’t think I could do it.”  
  


Tony curls tighter around Peter. “You won’t, baby. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”  
  


“Tony?” He curls one of his hands around the pendant that hangs around his neck, the one Tony got him.  
  


“Yeah, kiddo?”  
  


“I love you.”  
  


“I love you too, buddy. Now what do you say, we hop back into bed and we can pick up where you left off, yeah?”  
  


Peter looks over to where the fifth book lies harmlessly on the floor. “Can we skip to the end?”  
  


Tony offers a smile, picking up the fifth and the sixth with a little huff of laughter. “Yeah, kid. Of course.”  
  


They shift up onto the bed, Peter refusing to let go of Tony’s shirt, and Tony opens to the end of book five, clearing his throat.  
  


It’s not perfect. Nothing will ever be perfect for Peter. But it’s enough. It’s good.  
  


“ _‘Instead he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around, and led the way out of the station toward the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.’_ ”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://lyssismagical.tumblr.com/)


End file.
